rage

The daily spam e-mail filth is almost enough to put me over the edge. Three hours of carrying around the worst thing I’ve ever known, and already I can feel it in my stomach. If I can’t get this hatred — raw edged hatred — out of my system, soon it will be an ulcer.

And hatred is not a strong enough word. There are no strong enough words, but the darkest ones I know keep stabbing in my throat. I am glad my head hurts now; probably tomorrow I’ll be able to stop clenching my jaw. I am one of the most controlled people I know. I am shaking. Never…

As kids, we get mad. As we get older, most of us learn patience but will never stop coming across events and people too infuriating to describe. And sometimes, these events and people are one and the same: the event will not be undone but perhaps the person could be. I lack the love to get past this. I have never, and hope I never again, felt so sincerely the desire to hurt someone. I have never honestly wondered about the possibility of getting away with murder.

Death. Death is what we all deserve, and death is what I hope he gets. It is wrong, and most parts of me know it, but here is someone I would choose not to save from eternal fire. No one is too good for death, but some should meet it faster. God forgive me for this anger, and save me from this hate, but keep a special place in hell for him.

Choices cannot undo the fact that there are no coincidences. There are no coincidences. 2 Samuel 13.

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